Petals of a Dead World
by The-Ninth-Lord
Summary: After a treasured item in Ib's household dies, she wonders why her sister has such an unfitting reaction. Some reminiscing follows.


Feet tapping as light as feathers along the cobbled path towards home, Ib's eyes were trained on her shadow, a small smile on her face. She'd always been entranced by the faceless yet animated figures that followed you wherever you went - not real people, but you all the same. It was fascinating for her to watch as her the dark dancer joined her small waltz down the road.

The shadow was taller than her. Of course, it was getting late, and the sun was low behind her. Ib knew that - she'd always been a rather intelligent girl for her young age. Probably a lot more than her sister, who seemed to have her head in the clouds and be delighted by anything and everything.

Lightly, she hummed a tune that she repeated over and over. It was a sweet tune, and she imagined that her shadow was dancing to it, being pulled by little strings.

Upon reaching her house, she swivelled and walked up her driveway, past her parents' car. It was quite a fancy car that Ib could never remember the name of (for she had no interest in the matter), and quite expensive, too. Her parents worked in the art and history industries, her mother leaning toward the second. They'd always bring her and her sister to art galleries or museums and whatnot. Not that Ib minded. She loved paintings.

"_Ib!"_

Said girl flipped her head up, long strands of dark brown flying a little. She was enveloped into a hug by her sister, Mary. This wasn't an odd thing - due to Mary being younger and therefore in a different school, she would be home earlier and wait for Ib to arrive home, before giving her a massive hug and pulling her in. Today was no different.

Smiling, Ib allowed herself to be dragged inside by the shorter blonde. As she often would, Mary was wearing a set of cute, green overalls and her hair in a single ponytail. Since her hair was pretty long, Mary would let Ib brush and style her hair. "Ib, I've got something to show you!"

The older sibling tilted her head, pursing her lips and following her sister into the kitchen, where she'd perched herself onto a stool. "What is it, Mary?"

"My rose," she said with ultimate glee. She pointed to the vase on the table. "It's died!"

Ib stared for a few moments. She didn't look shocked, as Ib was often quite a nonchalant character. Though it was certainly confusing her as to why Mary was so delighted about her rose dying…

"_Oh, can I have that one?"_

_Ib smiled softly, turning from her sister to face her parents. "Yes, mh- m-mother - can I ha-ave one too?" she asked lightly._

_Their parents shared happy glances and the four of them entered the small shop. It was quite a cute florists, with a green exterior and the inside painted variations of sky blue, light indigo and some creamy yellows. The woman at the counter was sorting out some bluebells - Ib knew them by name due to the many books she'd read about flowers - and had a mixture of navy blue and dark green hair._

_Ib walked over and, being a little too small to reach the counter, lifted herself on her tippy toes. Her eyes surveying the variations of flowers on the counter, she almost didn't hear the woman speak to her. "What would you like, miss?"_

"_A-a red… R-rose!" Ib grinned widely. In her young age, she had a small stutter due to her shyness. As she progressed through her life, it lessened, but she still does struggle a little. The woman's lips spread in a wide, upward curve and she nodded._

"_Of course, princess!" she sang, turning around and looking for the item that Ib desired._

_Her cheeks flushed, Ib shook her head, and in a childish voice protested. "I-I'm not a p-princess!" she cried out. The florist was having none of it, though, and as she passed Ib the small rose, she did a small curtsy._

"_H-aaahhh…" Ib couldn't help but make a small noise of wonder when she looked at the rose. It was beautiful to her, and she felt nostalgia - although she didn't actually know what that word was and meant - pull through her. The petals were so dainty and looked as if they could simply drop off onto the counter at any moment. The ruby colour was intense - no, not ruby. The colour of a flame. A flame._

_Almost on instinct, she looked for Mary._

_Why was her heart beating so fast? It felt like terror. A cold shiver ran down her spine; like icy, clawed hands, it gripped her bones. There was a sinking sensation in her fingers that spread all the way up to her arms - as if she was, bit by bit, turning into dust and falling to pieces on the ground._

"_M-Mary!" she yelped, fearing that she would simply collapse right there on the spot. In her sight, there was her younger sister. Blonde as ever, her crystal-blue eyes set on a creamy rose. There was a fire in her eyes that made Ib's eyes irate and begin to fill up with water._

_Then she looked up. In a few moments, Ib had lost all the previous feelings of ice and terror. Stood at the counter, all she felt was nausea as she let the dizzy spell slip from her subconscious. Mary's eyes were on hers, and at once, the small brunette felt as if she was compelled to feel happy._

"_What's wrong, Ib?" she asked as their parents came into view. "You look startled!"_

_Deep, almost burgundy eyes disappeared behind long eyelashes. "I… I'm f-fine."_

After Ib's and Mary's parents bought them the roses, Mary wouldn't shut up about it being the best experience ever and how she wanted to keep the rose forever.

Looking up, Ib realised that Mary was calling her. Stood at the doorway, green overalls scrunched up as always, the little blonde had a dumb smile on her lips. "Ib, you look so silly."

"I-I do not!" she denied, standing up and walking over. Her cheeks were slightly puffed. Giggling, Mary ran out of the room.

Ib let out a sigh. Before following her sister, she paused. The feeling she experienced on that day was the first and last she ever had of it. It was like something was happening to her, but… But not. As if it were in another dimension or world. Either way, it was terrifying for nine-year-old Ib, and even after four years, she still remembers it as the scariest experience she'd ever had.

_If only she knew…_


End file.
